The Diamond of the Day: Part 2 (Alternate ending)
by GrayCharacter16
Summary: An alternate version of the final episode of Merlin Season 5, picking up at the point in the episode where Emrys has come to the rescue of Camelot's army and Arthur is about to face Mordred.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I couldn't sleep when I finished the series, so I was up most of the night planning an alternate ending and a 6th season. This version of the final episode of Merlin will contain a lot of the same content, conversations etc that were seen in the original episode. It picks up a few minutes into the episode, at the point just after Emrys has arrived at the scene of the battle, right where Mordred finds Arthur. It will be in segments divided up sort of like they might be on the actual show, with breaks between chapters where there would probably be commercial breaks. No copyright infringement intended, obviously.

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Arthur stopped to crouch beside a dying soldier.

The man's breath shuddered raggedly as he made one last, colossal effort; he raised a shaking hand, one finger extended. Arthur swung around to see what the soldier was pointing to.

Mordred had emerged from hiding behind him.

Arthur rose swiftly, ready but not aggressive. "Mordred. You're helping Morgana?"

"You gave me no choice." The young knight's voice rang cold.

"There's always a choice." Arthur raised his sword warily.

"Then this is my choice!" Mordred bounded across the space between them, sword flashing.

Arthur gave ground, parrying a shower of blows. "I know you're good at heart, Mordred! Morgana is manipulating you." He threw his opponent back and they circled, eyes locked. Mordred made no response to the king's words, so Arthur tried again. "I won't kill you, Mordred!"

"You won't have the chance!" The younger of the two moved in to attack again with a swift succession of thrusts and sidesweeps.

Arthur retreated again, deflecting one blow after another, backing in a wide circle. "I'm sorry for what I did."

"Of course you are _now_!" Mordred feinted and stabbed sidelong toward Arthur's chest; the king twisted aside and the swordpoint glanced off his breastplate, riving along his left shoulder instead. The chain mail gave way easily beneath Mordred's blade and blood began to run down Arthur's arm.

Arthur reeled away, face twisted. Mordred came on, brandishing the sword Morgana had given him. "You can't withstand this blade, Arthur. This is Clarent; it was forged in a dragon's breath!"

"So was Arthur's."

The voice rang between the cliffs, resonating powerfully through the two combatants. Mordred and Arthur both wheeled toward the newcomer.

The old wizard was moving toward them as quickly as he could, stepping over bodies to impose himself between Mordred and Arthur. "Mordred, you don't know what you're doing."

"I'll kill you, too, if you don't get out of my way!" Mordred's arm swept around. Emrys' eyes flashed; the enchanted sword clattered to the ground several steps away.

"There is a prophecy." He moved forward, eyes locked on Mordred's. "You are destined to kill Arthur here, at Camlann."

Mordred was down on one knee, picking up his sword. The words spilled out of Merlin. "Think what will happen to Camelot and all of Albion with Morgana on the throne! No matter what you think of Arthur you can't want that! Only you can change your destiny, Mordred; I can't save Arthur from you. Only you can! You have to save Arthur!"

"Why should I do that?" The young knight lunged upward, sword in hand again. The wizard flicked a hand open; Mordred was thrown backward, still gripping Clarent.

Glancing over his shoulder to be sure Arthur was alright, Emrys kept moving toward Mordred. "Arthur did everything he could to save Kara. He couldn't ignore the law, Mordred! You must know that – the king has to enforce the law. He didn't want to kill her."

"He did anyway!" Mordred roared, surging upright and rushing at Merlin, sword upraised.

Arthur lunged past the old wizard; Excalibur rang as it swept Clarent aside. The blade was thrown from Mordred's hand and Arthur forced him away from it, sword ready. Merlin circled, ready to intervene if the Druid had any opportunity to harm Arthur. The king stood over Mordred's sword, allowing the younger man to back away. "Mordred, I can't sleep nights when I think about what happened to Kara. I did everything I could. I wanted to spare her, truly I did. She wouldn't let me, Mordred! If I had known what would happen I would have left her in the cave where I found her."

Mordred stood several steps away, glaring, hands hanging uncertainly at his sides. His eyes were red-rimmed; he was on the verge of tears, though whether they were of indecision or bitterness couldn't be told.

Without warning, a massive force slammed into Emrys from behind. He was hurled clear across the narrow gorge and slammed into the cliff, dropping like a rag doll to the ground.

Arthur swung around, sword upraised once more. Morgana was limping toward them, arms still outstretched after the blow she had dealt Merlin from several meters away.

"Arthur!" Blood was running from the corner of Morgana's mouth. Her eyes seemed possessed, her face was filthy, and her hair looked like it hadn't been cared for in months. As she strode toward them, an expression of demonic triumph on her face, both Arthur and Mordred took an involuntary step back. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

"Morgana . . ." The king began, but she cut him off by snapping one fist shut; he found himself on his knees. Her hand twisted and he slammed down onto the ground, then flew through the air and hit the cliff behind him. Because of his armor, the collision didn't stun him as it had Merlin; he crumpled to hands and knees, gasping. Mordred moved to where Arthur had been standing to pick his sword up again, staying submissively back from Morgana.

"You don't deserve death, Arthur!" She screamed. The cliffs shook. "I'm only killing you now because I've waited to kill you for too long!" Suddenly regaining her self-control, she stalked across to him and stood immobile until he slowly raised his head to look up from where he was crouching at her feet. A crazed smile lit her face. "Don't worry, though; I'll give Gwen and your knights the punishment I should have given you."

Her brief moment of calm was gone; she began raging, her frenzy increasing by the second. "Gwen will pay in years of blood for what you've done to me! Emrys will pay! Your knights! Every man in your army! They'll pay! All of Camelot will pay for what you've done, Arthur! I will bring every man, woman and child to their knees at the foot of my throne! The five kingdoms will bow to me!"

Arthur's chest heaved as he raised himself to his feet to look into his half-sister's eyes. "What _have_ I done, Morgana?"

Her hand closed in front of him; he took in a sharp breath of air, drawing up rigid in agony where he stood. She tightened her fist slowly to emphasize her words. "You have sat on the throne which is rightfully mine for years, Arthur! For years! You have hunted and butchered and trampled on my kind!"

"Those with magic." He gasped, translating her statement. "But it's not vengeance for their wrongs that you seek, Morgana. All you want is to rule Camelot."

"And I will!" She screamed. The gorge trembled again. "No one will stand against me! Anyone who dares oppose me will burn forever!"

"Morgana." Merlin, slowly coming to his senses, lifted a hand weakly from where he laid at the foot of the cliff. "Don't do this."

"You will pay more dearly than all the others combined, Emrys!" She raged. "You will beg for death before I have even begun to punish you!"

"Morgana." Mordred spoke from behind her.

She turned toward him. "What?"

Clarent plunged through her body.

Released from the magic she had been holding him with, Arthur staggered a step forward, fighting for breath.

A thrill electrified Merlin; the strength began to flood back into him.

Morgana stood, face painted with utter shock. She swayed; Mordred caught her by the shoulder with his free hand, steadying her as he held onto the hilt protruding from her stomach. "I'm sorry, Morgana, but there's nothing left of you but hate."

"You're one of mine!" She gasped, sagging in his grip.

"I won't let hate turn me into what you've become." Tears brimmed in his eyes. "I forgive Arthur for what he did. I choose the way of love, Morgana."

Her trembling hand rose toward his face. She took an anguished breath – and closed her fist. Arthur, standing behind her, gasped as he was jerked forward onto the sword protruding from her back.

A shout of pain tore from Arthur and another of horror from Merlin. Morgana went limp. Mordred, aghast, tried to free Clarent as the weight of its two collapsing victims dragged it to the ground.

After an instant's struggle, the blade came free; its tip had broken off. Mordred tossed it aside, kneeling over Morgana as Arthur stayed on his knees, doubled over in agony.

"How . . . could you?" Morgana's voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry." A tear dropped from his face to hers. "I had to."

"You – you bring this . . ." Her voice trailed away; she could only mouth the words "on yourself."

"Wh – " He began, but was cut off as her eyes flashed one last time and a dagger flew from her waistband into his side. He reared back with a cry somewhere between a sob and a shout.

Merlin, a victim of tragically unfortunate timing, or perhaps suddenly freed from Morgana's magic, shook off the effects of slamming into the cliff even as she died. He rushed to Arthur's side and dropped to his knees beside him as the king sank back on his heels, head hanging.

"No! No, no, Arthur, this can't be!" Merlin felt tears running from his own eyes. "You have to be alright!"

"You . . ." Arthur frowned weakly. "You were the one that killed my father."

Merlin had all but forgotten that he was still under the effects of the aging spell. He lurched forward to catch Arthur as the king's legs suddenly gave way and he fell sideways. "I tried to heal him! Morgana had put a spell on him that reversed my magic! But Arthur, you can't die!"

"Why . . . why . . . did you . . . help?" Arthur's eyes fluttered closed as Merlin lowered his head to the ground.

"No!" Merlin 's shoulders shook. "You can't die, Arthur!"

"He's not dead yet." Mordred's voice shook with the effort of speaking. He was crouching beside Morgana, clasping the handle of the dagger buried in his side.

Merlin swung around. "You defied the prophecy!"

"But I didn't change anything." He closed his eyes wearily. "Arthur is dying by my sword."

"I can save him." Merlin swiveled back toward Arthur. "I have to save him."

"Go, then." Mordred's voice was a murmur. "Leave me."

"I'll send Gaius." The wizard promised. "You'll be alright."

The boy nodded feebly in understanding. "Save Arthur."

Merlin hauled the king's arm over his shoulder, got an arm behind his back and another under his legs, and slowly rose to his feet. With a last look at Morgana and Mordred and an involuntary glance at Clarent, he made his way back toward the camp of Camelot's army.

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Please review, even if I've posted other chapters after this one or finished the story. Even if you don't have a lot to say, I'd just like to know you read it. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Traveling as slowly as he did, it was fifteen minutes before the wizard made it to the camp. His aging spell had faded by then; he was young again, still wearing the long robe of Emrys over his clothes.

"Merlin?" Leon was the first to see him approaching. The knight rushed through a tangle of fallen bodies. "What happened?"

The tears that Merlin had shed on the way came fresh again as Leon tried to relieve him of Arthur's weight. Merlin held the king tighter. "Please don't take him from me. Please."

"All right." Startled, Leon took a step back. "But we have to get him to Gaius."

"Which way?" Merlin murmured, slightly dazed.

Leon turned to guide him. "Straight ahead – not far."

"You have to save Mordred." The boy slurred. "He killed Morgana – he tried to save Arthur. She stabbed him."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." Merlin was still moving in the direction the knight had pointed him. "With Morgana. And you have to bring his sword and Arthur's."

"I'll get searchers out." Leon promised, breaking away to run back into the camp.

Merlin ignored the excitement and questions that flurried around him as he made his way toward the medical tent. Someone lifted the curtain open for him and he staggered through, nearly running into Gwen.

"Arthur!" She dissolved in tears. "What happened?"

"Where's Gaius?" Merlin's strength was failing him.

"Gaius!" Gwen shouted the healer's name into the extensive tent. "Gaius, hurry!"

The old man appeared a moment later, his arms smeared with blood up to the elbows. "Merlin!"

"Gaius, you have to save him." Merlin slurred, lowering Arthur onto a stretcher on the table beside him.

"What happened?"

"Mordred stabbed Morgana – "

"Mordred?" Gaius repeated, startled.

Merlin kept talking. "But she pulled Arthur onto the end of the sword. You have to save him, Gaius!"

"I can try." The healer wiped his hands on his tunic. "Get all that armor off him."

Merlin and Gwen hastily complied, removing Arthur's breastplate, gauntlets and chain mail with painful slowness and the aid of some covert magic from Merlin.

Gaius tore the king's shirt open and began examining the wound as soon as they were done. "It doesn't look too deep. If we're lucky, it may not have caused untreatable damage."

"Please hurry, Gaius." Gwen begged. "Don't let him die."

"I'll do what I can, your highness." The old man assured her briefly. "The two of you will have to take care of the other casualties for me, though."

"Leave him?" Merlin questioned dumbly.

"Yes." Gaius' answer was firm. "There are too many injuries for you to stand about doing nothing."

The two obeyed reluctantly. Merlin stopped to remove his robe; everybody had been too worried about Arthur to ask why he had been wearing it.

A moment later, once Gwen was out of earshot, Gaius called his apprentice back. "Merlin, did Mordred's sword break?"

About to reply negatively, the young man stopped short, recalling the last glance he'd taken at Clarent. "Yes – the tip snapped off." His eyes widened. "Is it in Arthur? Gaius, Mordred said it was enchanted – forged in a dragon's breath like Excalibur!"

"I fear the tip may have broken off inside Arthur." The healer admitted. "It will travel toward his heart, Merlin. I cannot save him."

"I can get it out with magic." Merlin suggested.

"To do so would kill him."

"What can we do? Gaius, there must be something!" Tears threatened Merlin's eyes again. "We can't let him die!"

The healer fixed a glare of concentration on Arthur's unconscious face. For nearly two minutes, he said nothing.

Then, suddenly, his head jerked up. "The Sidhe might be able to save Arthur at the place where their magic is strongest."

"Where?" Merlin demanded breathlessly.

"The isle of Avalon. It's a day and a half's travel from here at a regular pace, though. Arthur has two days at best, and you'll be going slowly."

"Then I'd better get started." Merlin spun on his heel, about to run toward the door.

"Merlin, you are no friend to the Sidhe." His mentor reminded him. "You have foiled their plans many times."

"I'll go as Emrys."

Gaius scowled. "Even so, they have no love for Arthur, either. They've tried to kill him and usurp him before."

"I'll make them heal him." Merlin snapped fiercely. "I'll convince them." When this was met with a dubious glance from the old man, he shrugged helplessly. "I have to try, Gaius!"

"I know." The healer nodded. "Go find horses; I'll pack you supplies."

It didn't take Merlin long to find a pair of fresh steeds. He left them at the entrance to the tent and hurried to where Gaius was waiting beside Arthur, having fitted his injury with a temporary dressing and pulled a clean shirt over it.

Nobody was about except several injured soldiers, unconscious on a row of cots. Lifting Arthur between them, Merlin and Gaius left the tent and got the insensible king onto one of the mounts, with a lot of assistance from Merlin's magic.

As the young man took the two horses by the bridles, Gaius stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Merlin."

"What?"

"I know you have to try, but I don't think even you can change Arthur's destiny. He is destined to die by this wound."

"He was. But Mordred defied the prophecy. I think that gives Arthur a chance." Merlin tugged the horses forward. "I'll be back, Gaius."

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A/N: please review! Even if you don't have anything to say, just a few words will make me happy (happy, happy, happy, happy...come along, if you feel like a room without a roof... okay, sorry, that song has been in my head all day). :D


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur's eyes opened slowly.

A huge grin split the face hanging over him. Arthur frowned. "Merlin?"

"Yeah." A relieved, breathy laugh escaped the young wizard.

Arthur turned his head slightly. "Where are we?"

"Don't try to move." Merlin warned. "You were injured."

As the memory hit him, Arthur tried to sit up and immediately buckled backward, unleashing a yell of agony. "What is that?"

"There's a sword fragment somewhere inside you." Merlin gripped his hand. "You're bleeding."

"That's all right, then – I thought I was dying." Arthur panted sarcastically. "What happened? How did you get here? "Where are the others?" His eyes widened. "Mordred! Mordred saved me!"

"I know – I was there." Tears brimmed again in Merlin's eyes.

"No you weren't." Arthur grimaced painfully. "Why are you crying?"

"I _was_ there." Merlin rocked back on his heels, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I can't do it, Arthur! I can't change the prophecy!"

"What prophecy? What are you talking about?"

"I thought I'd done it!" Merlin's shoulders heaved. "I found Mordred before he killed you – I didn't even have to kill him! But Morgana just wouldn't let you be!"

"What on Earth are you gibbering about, Merlin?" Arthur grunted.

"I thought I saved you. I saved everyone else, but not you!"

"What? Merlin, a sorcerer saved us. Why are you going on like this?"

"It was me!" Merlin burst out.

Puzzled, Arthur tried to raise his head. "What was?"

"I have magic, Arthur." Merlin's stuttered through uneven breaths. "I defeated the Saxons."

The king's frown deepened. "Are you saying you're a sorcerer, Merlin?"

The young wizard nodded wordlessly. Arthur snorted. "That's ridiculous. Merlin, you've been my servant for years. I would know if you had magic."

"I was born with it, sire, and I use it to protect you. That's my destiny."

"This is stupid." Doubt penetrated Arthur. "Why are you saying this?"

"Look." Merlin inhaled deeply, calming himself, cutting off his tears. He lifted a hand toward the fire and murmured under his breath. The figure of a dragon floated over the flames for a moment, then faded. "I've been like this since birth, Arthur. You think magic is evil, but it's just a thing. A sword is only evil if its bearer is. Magic is the same way."

Arthur stared, wide-eyed, at the air where the dragon had hovered. "You've been lying to me all this time."

"I didn't want to." Merlin shook his head miserably. "I had no choice. I had to protect you, and you'd have killed me if you'd known. Now listen." He tried not to notice the king's expression of disbelief, horror and hurt. "The tip of Mordred's sword broke off inside you. I'm taking you to the isle of Avalon – it's young only chance. But we're barely going to make it in time."

Arthur didn't respond, only staring at Merlin with a combination of misery and betrayal. Merlin stared back unhappily until the king, with a tremendous effort, shifted away from him. "Leave me."

"What? Arthur – "

"No! Just – leave." He repeated. "Get away from me."

Merlin tried again. "Arthur!"

"No! Just – you heard. Just leave."

The wizard shook his head. "Say what you like. I'll never leave you, Arthur. We're moving out in half an hour."

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A/N: Before you ask, yes, I am aware that this conversation came almost straight out of the original version. I told you at the beginning I'd keep some of the original material, didn't I? As I said before, all credit for the stuff that's not mine goes to BBC and whoever else. Also, just a warning, Merlin's going to be doing a lot of crying for the next few chapters. Normally my characters don't cry but it seemed right.

Also, did you realize that Merlin has known Arthur for about ten years? There were only five seasons but with the one-year gap when Morgana was missing at the beginning of season 2, then the 2-year gap when she was imprisoned with Aithusa, and all the other gaps, plus the logical assumption that the episodes happen a while apart from each other, it's been about 10 years. I just think that's so crazy. You all are probably thinking this was soooo obvious, how could I have just made this connection?

Plus, if they've know each other for 10 years, how old are they now? I'm going to try and figure that out...if I can't I'm going to make up an age. :)

As always, please review, even if you have nothing [good] to say.


	4. Chapter 4

"The Saxons have disbanded, but there are groups of them scattered everywhere. We have to be careful." Merlin spoke from ahead of Arthur's horse, which he was still leading by the bridle, along with his own, going on foot himself. The king, slumped in the saddle, made no response; he had said nothing since discovering Merlin's identity. Resigned to the sudden loathing that Arthur harbored toward him, the wizard didn't try to prompt conversation.

They traveled in silence for hours; the night passed and the sun rose.

Arthur had slipped into unconsciousness for a while, but he was awake once again. Merlin could feel the king's eyes boring into him from behind, but he gave no indication that he was aware of Arthur's gaze.

"Why did you do it?" Arthur asked unexpectedly. His slurred voice sent a stab of concern through Merlin; he wasn't doing well.

"Why did I do what?" Merlin turned his chin so that he could listen over his shoulder.

"Everything." Arthur mumbled. "What was the point of deceiving me for so many years?" When Merlin didn't respond right away, he added, "Do you hate me so much that just making me trust you and lying to me the whole time was good enough for you?"

"Hate you?" Merlin's head jerked as if he had been slapped. "What are you talking about, Arthur?"

"How could you do this to me, Merlin?" The king demanded, his voice overflowing with misery. "You were my best friend. I trusted you more than anyone else in the world. More than Guinevere! And I admired you more than anyone else I ever met, too. How could you do this?"

"Arthur." Merlin shook his head desolately. "All I ever did was help you. I've spent years bleeding, sweating and crying for you. I've saved your life so many times that I've literally lost track – and not just you, Camelot too. I've gone to the ends of the Earth to break enchantments put on you. I've hidden the biggest secret anyone could ever have from the closest friend I ever had – that's you, by the way. And I never asked for anything in return, Arthur, never!"

"Why would you do this?" Arthur repeated feebly. Merlin wasn't sure whether he was being asked why he had deceived the king or why he had done everything he had to help him.

He didn't respond, though, because the sound of hoofbeats suddenly reached his ears. He quickly steered the horses into the tree cover, but he couldn't get very far from the trail due to the thickness of the undergrowth. Glancing warningly at Arthur with a finger to his lips, he peered at the half a dozen riders trotting along the trail.

"Saxons," Arthur mumbled. Merlin raised a hand warningly, hoping the king would do what he said and be quiet. The wizard's eyes glowed; a flurry of leaves spread over the tracks they had left on the trail, effectively concealing them.

Arthur watched uneasily as Merlin raised a hand toward a bramble shrub several meters down the path and to the left; the bush shook just enough to catch the Saxons' attention, and they cantered toward it. Another shrub, much further down the trail, trembled noticeably; the six riders continued hurriedly in that direction, quickly vanishing from sight.

"This isn't the first time you've done this." Arthur stated blandly. Merlin, unsure whether it was a question or a comment, shook his head, eyes downcast. The king frowned. "All these years – you never sought any credit."

"That's not why I do it. And I couldn't, really, unless I wanted you to lop my head off." Merlin forced his voice to sound cheerful, like he and Arthur were just exchanging everyday banter. He glanced up; his companion was staring at him, scowling deeply. The young wizard shrugged unhappily, taking the horses' reins and leading them onward once more. "Arthur, I can't help how I was born. I never wanted to have magic, but I couldn't get rid of it. You can't hate me for something I didn't choose."

"Don't tell me what I can't do." Arthur grunted.

"I always do." Merlin forced a grin. "You just never listen."

"Why did you say magic should be outlawed?"

The king's abrupt question took Merlin by surprise. He paused, trying to remember when he had said that. "You mean when Mordred was dying and the Disir wanted you to, you know, accept magic?"

"You told me there was no place for magic in Camelot." Arthur said by way of confirmation. "Why did you do that?"

Merlin sighed. "It was foretold that Mordred would kill you, sire. When he was dying, I thought it was my chance to change your destiny, my chance to save you. I thought the Disir would let Mordred die because you didn't do as they wished, but they let him live instead, which they thought would lead to your doom."

"That was idiotic of you. Why try to turn me against your own kind?" A bit of familiar spirit flickered across Arthur's morose, dull face.

"I did what I thought would save your life." Merlin answered dismally.

"You made a mistake, then." The king's words bit into him. Hitching up his shoulders as if to protect himself from Arthur's accusing gaze, Merlin fixed his eyes on the path ahead.

Apparently having run out of hurtful things to say, at least for the moment, Arthur lapsed into silence. A couple of times Merlin glanced back; the king was huddled in the saddle, staring emptily down at nothing. Whether it was his physical condition and the pain he was in or his wretched state of mind at what he perceived as Merlin's betrayal that brought about the glazed, despondent expression on his face, Merlin wasn't sure. He felt selfish for hoping it was the former.

As night fell, Merlin was forced to call a break, as Arthur was on the verge of collapsing from the saddle. After making the king as comfortable as he could, Merlin moved about, collecting wood for a fire. Arthur was asleep when the wizard returned, but woke up when he put flint to tinder, trying to draw sparks.

A few minutes passed, but a hearty breeze and slightly damp wood foiled Merlin's attempts to start a fire. Arthur's voice was ragged as he asked, "Why don't you just use magic?"

Merlin glanced over at the king, trying to discern his motive for posing the question. Unable to read Arthur's expression in the gloom, he shrugged. "Habit, I suppose."

They held eye contact for a moment, then Arthur gestured with one hand, raising an eyebrow slightly. Interpreting this as an order to use his powers to light the fire, Merlin murmured a few words into the heavy air. A healthy flame crackled to life amid the damp wood.

Merlin glanced up, feeling guilty. "Feels strange."

"Yeah." Arthur agreed dryly. As Merlin started a meal cooking in a skillet Gaius had packed, Arthur grunted, "I thought I knew you."

"I'm still the same person, sire." Merlin couldn't bring himself to look at the king for fear that Arthur's expression would condemn him.

"I trusted you." Arthur gritted.

Merlin shifted miserably. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." The king growled.

While the food cooked, Merlin moved about the fire, still crouching, adding sticks of kindling here and there. He paused beside Arthur, eying the king's wet boots, then gently eased them off his feet.

Too tired to move, Arthur settled at demanding harshly, "What do you think you're doing?"

Merlin's eyes flickered up to meet his, but dropped quickly; the young wizard shrugged meekly. "They need drying."

His companion didn't protest further. Merlin set the boots close to the fire and rose to his feet to unstrap a pack from his horse. As he approached, digging inside the bag, Arthur shifted his shoulders uneasily. "What's that?"

Merlin stopped, looking even more hurt than he had before. "Medical supplies."

"Oh." Arthur's apprehension was mollified, but the trepidation that had flashed across the king's face for a moment had stabbed Merlin to the heart, cutting deeper than any of Arthur's wounding words had penetrated. Unaware or unrepentant of the agony his mistrust inflicted on his servant, Arthur demanded, "Why?"

"Your shoulder was injured and Gaius didn't have time to treat it earlier." Merlin tried to swallow a cruel knot twisted up in his throat. "It'll be fine soon as long as it gets treated, but if I leave it that arm could be permanently damaged."

"Fine. Treat it, then." Arthur turned his head away apathetically.

Heart aching, Merlin crouched beside his longtime companion to take care of his injury. The muscle had been cut deeply; it would be a while before it was fully healed. Fortunately for Arthur, it was his left arm, so his capability with the sword would not be diminished.

That was assuming he would survive the enchanted sword bit buried in his body, of course. Merlin refused to acknowledge the grim, black, all-engulfing void of inescapable fear looming threateningly on the edge of his mind. Arthur would survive. He had to.

As soon as he had cleaned the dried blood from the shoulder injury and dressed it, Merlin took the skillet from the fire, poured its contents into the wooden bowl Gaius had packed, and crouched beside Arthur, lifting a spoonful of the steaming concoction toward the king's mouth.

A deep, angry scowl distorted Arthur's face and he pushed Merlin's hand away, demanding heatedly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Merlin caught the stew on his other hand as it was knocked from the spoon, flinching as the hot brew seared his bare palm but forcing himself not to jerk away and spill it on Arthur.

"Acting like a servant!" The king snapped.

Merlin stared wretchedly at the ground. "I _am_ your servant, sire."

"No, you're not, you're a – " Arthur paused distastefully. "A sorcerer."

"I'd do anything for you, Arthur. Serving you is my destiny." Merlin searched desperately for a way to express the profound answer to this question that he could feel swelling inside him, but he couldn't find the words, so he finished with, "It has been since the day we met."

"I tried to take your head off with a mace." Arthur recalled.

A small grin tugged at Merlin's mouth. "And I stopped you."

"Using magic, I suppose." His companion grumbled. "You cheated."

"Well, you were going to kill me." The wizard pointed out.

"I should've." Arthur countered.

"I'm glad you didn't." Merlin held the bowl up again. "I do this because of who you are, Arthur. Camelot is nothing without you. There will never be another like you." He forestalled the king's response by adding, "And I also do this because you're my friend and I don't want to lose you."

Arthur took a breath to reply, but he didn't. His eyes slid away from the wizard and fixed on something on the other side of the fire. Merlin, alarmed, swung around.

A pair of Saxons stood at the edge of the circle of light, weapons at the ready. Both were huge, hulking men armed with long cutlasses and wearing the black chain mail Morgana had produced for all of her soldiers. They moved forward in synchronization, each moving around one side of the fire to trap the two companions between them and the tree Arthur was leaning on.

As they advanced, one of the two spoke. "Do I believe my eyes? What do we have here if it isn't the great Arthur Pendragon himself?"

Arthur's eyes flickered weakly from one to the other. Merlin rose to stand over the king. "Leave us be."

"Well, since you asked nicely." The Saxon sneered.

"I'm warning you!" Merlin raised his voice.

The other aggressor shrugged indifferently. "Consider us warned."

"You'd best run for it while you can, boy." The first Saxon growled. "It's Pendragon we want to carve to ribbons, not you. If you run fast enough you might have enough of a head start that we won't catch up with you when we're done with your master here." As an afterthought, with a spiteful grin, he added, "We'll take a good long time."

"Last chance." Merlin warned them.

The two Saxons exchanged a nod. The gesture had hardly passed between them – they hadn't had time to leap forward – when Merlin's hands came up forcefully and the would-be attackers were swept off their feet, hurled into the air, and propelled backward until one slammed into a tree and the other came down on his back a good ten meters away.

"You need to eat now." Merlin crouched beside Arthur, picking up the soup bowl again. "You haven't had anything since before the battle yesterday."

"I'm not hungry." Arthur's eyes were fixed on the limp body of the Saxon crumpled at the foot of the tree beyond the campsite.

"Eat it anyway." Merlin ordered. The king's gaze broke away from the motionless form of the lifeless enemy and searched his servant's face as if looking for something there. Then he gave a barely perceptible shrug and relaxed his head back against the tree with a strangled grunt of pain.

Merlin took this to be a sign that Arthur would cooperate, and began spooning the food into his mouth without attempting to say anything else. The king downed it, silent but uncomplaining, his expression withdrawn.

As soon as the bowl was empty, Merlin began to stamp out the fire. Arthur frowned. "What are you doing?"

"We have to keep going, sire. You have less than a day left."

"I can't, Merlin." The young wizard stopped short as Arthur used his name for the first time since discovering his secret. "I have to rest."

Merlin hesitated, torn by indecision, then stepped away from the fire with an expression of almost fearful resignation. "Alright. Forty minutes. Get some sleep."

* * *

A/N: the ONE thing I did love about the episode was how well they handled the way what Arthur thinks about Merlin and his powers changes. The writer had that absolutely mastered. I'm doing my best not to mess up that one perfect part of the episode.

Don't forget to review! :)


	5. Chapter 5

"How is he?" Gwen watched anxiously as Gaius examined Mordred. The healer had dressed the young knight's injury when Leon brought him back from the battlefield, at the time pronouncing that the wound was not fatal and Mordred would be on the mend immediately.

Mordred had not been on the mend immediately, though; he had worsened through the night on the way back to Camelot and had drifted in and out of consciousness all day. Gaius hadn't had a chance to look in on him since that morning; the casualties from the battle were high. More and more had streamed in steadily throughout the day, all in need of treatment.

"It's hard to say." Gaius wasn't finished with his examination yet.

Gwen hadn't spoken to the old man since he told her Arthur had inexplicably vanished, and though she was concerned about Mordred, it was her primary concern to find out what Gaius knew about her husband's disappearance. She waited for a moment until he looked up, then asked bluntly, "Where is Arthur?"

Gaius seemed to waver indecisively, obviously deciding what to say. "The sorcerer who defeated Morgana took him."

"Took him where?" She demanded.

"To save him – or to try, at least." At Gwen's fretful look, he assured her, "Arthur is in good hands. If anyone can save his life, it's that man."

"You know him?" She queried.

Gaius visibly hesitated again. "Yes, milady."

"Why did he help Arthur defeat Morgana's army?"

"He is a good man, Gwen. He has devoted his life to protecting Arthur."

After a long pause, she probed slowly, "Before the battle, you told me Merlin was off on an errand of utmost importance."

"Yes." He answered guardedly.

"Then he was there, at the battlefield – he brought Arthur back." An even longer silence followed, then Gwen demanded abruptly, "Do I know the sorcerer who saved Arthur?"

"Yes, milady." Gaius answered in a low voice.

She stared into his eyes, her expression a blend of emotions. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Gaius, I'm grateful."

"To whom?"

"To Merlin. For all he's done for Arthur. I owe him more than I could ever repay."

"We all do, Gwen." Gaius shook his head. "You have no idea. Even I don't know the full extent of what he's done for Camelot and Arthur and the rest of us." He paused. "But, Gwen, Merlin may very well fail. I believe the chances that he will be able to save Arthur's life are next to none."

"I will not give up hope." She told him stiffly. Then her eyes dropped as she changed the subject. "How is Mordred?"

"I believe I have an idea as to why his health is failing." Gaius sat back. "Morgana has done trade with the Hyume. They are a tribe that splintered from the Druids a century ago – they make enchanted weapons which release magic into the victim when he is stabbed. This magic flows through his system and eventually destroys him."

"Magic." Her shoulders sagged. "Is there nothing you can do for him?"

"I can keep him alive for a week, at the very best. Likely it will be no more than five days." Gaius grimaced. "I need Merlin's magic if I am to save him, though."

"How far is Merlin taking Arthur from here?"

"About two days' travel." The old healer replied. "If Arthur is to survive they will have to get there tomorrow. They will go slowly on the way back, though; if Arthur survives, he will be weak."

"I'll send Gwaine and Percival to meet them on their way back and hurry Merlin here." Gwen decided. She rose immediately and headed for the door.

"Gwen." Gaius stopped her. She turned questioningly and he warned, "Do not tell the knights of Merlin's powers."

"I won't." She promised.

* * *

A/N: so, you know when I was talking about how old the characters are? I think it was actually more like eight years between the start of season 1 and the end of season 5. I think Arthur was 20 (and turned 21) in season 1, because back then the age when people were usually considered adults was 21 and Arthur became crown prince in Excalibur in season 1. So by the end of season 5 Arthur would be 29. Yikes. Then Merlin, I think, is 3/4 years younger than Arthur, so he's probably 26-ish. I couldn't find anything about how old Gwen is, but I'd guess she's between Arthur and Merlin - 28 or 29. Gwaine is probably about the same. I'd guess Percival's 30 or so, and Leon is a bit older than the rest. Gaius is probably in his 70's.

Also, by the way, I'm trying to write the dialogue in the slightly formal way they speak in the original series. Don't know how well I'm doing, since I'm used to writing dialogue in a casual voice. Let me know if I managed that okay.

More will be up soon, hopefully...I haven't finished writing it yet.

Anyway, please review. :)


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was at its peak when the smell of woodsmoke drifted through the woods to them. Merlin stopped the horses, which he was still leading by their bridles; his eyes glowed as he searched through the forest ahead of them for the source of the smoke.

"Saxons?" Arthur suggested dully.

Merlin didn't answer until he had found the smoking remnants of a campfire further along the trail. "They're long gone."

"How do you know?"

He glanced back. "I can see the path ahead."

Arthur scowled. "So you're not an idiot. That was another lie."

"No, just another part of my charm." Merlin contradicted with a grin. His smile faded as Arthur swayed in the saddle, nearly slipping out of it. "We'd better take another break. We're almost there; we won't need another rest after this."

The king nodded and allowed Merlin to help him down from his mount and onto a log. Merlin dug through the packs for a waterskin, then began to tether the two horses.

Arthur slid off the log and slumped with his back against it. Merlin dropped the horses' reins and knelt beside him quickly, steadying him. "Arthur, you need to hold on. Not long now." He rubbed a cloth across the king's forehead. "Not long now." He tucked the cloth under his arm and uncorked the waterskin in his other hand.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Arthur questioned weakly.

Merlin paused. "I wanted to, sire, but . . ."

"What?" Arthur turned his chin sideways to look at his servant.

"Well, you'd have taken my head off." He held the waterskin up and his companion consented to take a long draught from it.

Arthur wiped his mouth weakly with the back of one hand. "I'm not sure what I'd have done."

"And I didn't want to put you in that position." Merlin explained.

The king looked up with an effort. "That's what worried you?"

Merlin shrugged. "Some men are born to plow fields, sire. Others are born to be great physicians. Some to be great kings," He added meaningfully. "Me – I was born to protect and serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing."

They regarded each other silently for a moment, then Arthur slurred, "Merlin, whatever happens . . ."

"Don't say that." The wizard cut him off.

"I'm the king, Merlin. You can't tell me what to do."

"I always do." He grinned crookedly. "I'm not going to change now."

"I don't want you to change." Arthur told him unexpectedly, his head drooping. "I want you . . . to always be you. I'm sorry . . . for how I treated you."

The only sign Merlin gave of the utter relief that flooded him was a wider grin. "Does that mean you're going to give me a day off?"

Arthur lifted his head slightly to say, "Two."

"That's generous." Merlin commented. As Arthur's head dropped again, the young wizard checked his master's pulse. "Get some sleep."

Merlin intended to take a one-hour break, but he dozed off, waking up half an hour after he had meant to leave. He roused Arthur quickly. "Come on, we need to keep going. Not much further now."

"Merlin." Arthur panted. "Where are the horses?"

Anxiously, the servant glanced up. He had forgotten to tether their mounts earlier – the two animals were gone.

"No!" Merlin leaped upright and circled the tree he had left the horses beside, as if looking for them. "Where did they go?"

"Are you asking me, Merlin?" Arthur grunted weakly. The wizard glanced at him, wondering if Arthur was blaming him for the loss of the horses, but it didn't look that way.

Merlin straightened up. "Alright, I'll carry you, then." He heaved Arthur's arm over his shoulders and hauled the king upright, straining silently with the effort of supporting the heavy burden. "Ready?"

Wordlessly, they started off in the direction they'd been traveling. Half an hour later Arthur's knees buckled and he collapsed. The dead weight hanging on his shoulders was too much for Merlin; he was dragged to his knees and back onto his heels, lowering Arthur as gently as he could until the king's back was in Merlin's lap and his right shoulder leaning against the wizard's stomach. Merlin supported Arthur's head with his arm, his other hand moving frantically along the king's slack face. "Arthur! Come on, we have to get to the lake! We're almost there!"

"Merlin . . ." Arthur murmured feebly. "Not without the horses. It's too late."

"No!"

It's too late. All your magic, Merlin . . ." He paused, gasping mutely. "You can't save my life."

"I can!" Merlin choked miserably, trying to stand again but unable to lift the king's weight again. "I'm not going to lose you!"

"Just, just . . ." Arthur had to struggle to get each word out. "Just stay with me. Please. Merlin – there's something I want to say . . ."

"You're not going to say goodbye." Merlin's face crumpled, tears stinging his eyes.

"No, Merlin." A very faint smile crossed Arthur's face. "Everything you've done . . . I know now. For me . . . for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build."

"You'd have done it without me." Merlin managed a smile amid the tears dripping down his face.

"I want to say . . . something I never said to you before." Arthur's eyes opened all the way for just a moment. "Thank you, Merlin."

Then his eyes closed. His chest continued to rise and fall, but he couldn't stay conscious any longer.

"No, Arthur! Arthur!" Merlin shouted, shaking the king's head with his free hand. "Arthur! Come on!"

He reared back, yelling to the sky in the dragon language. Agonizing moments passed; Merlin poured everything he knew into an enchantment to slow Arthur's systems down so he'd live just a few minutes more, checking the king's pulse again and again.

Then a massive shadow engulfed him, and a moment later Kilgharrah landed, the ground shaking beneath his feet.

The last bit of the journey would have taken Merlin and Arthur nearly an hour on foot. Carried by the dragon, they reached the shore of the lake in a couple of minutes, and Merlin managed to get Arthur into the boat.

As Merlin pushed the vessel out into the water, Kilgharrah rumbled, "You cannot save him, Merlin."

"No, but the Sidhe can!" The wizard hopped into the boat himself and raggedly whispered a few words; they picked up speed, gliding effortlessly over the water.

"Arthur's life has been foretold, Merlin." The dragon warned.

"Mordred changed his destiny. Arthur's can change, too!" Merlin refused to look back, urging the boat to a greater speed. Kilgharrah said nothing more; when Merlin looked back a minute later, the dragon was gone.

Half way to the island, the wizard remembered that he had to perform the aging spell on himself before meeting the Sidhe. He didn't have his usual robe, so he settled for taking off his jacket and the blue bandana he wore about his neck.

Thanks to the speed the boat maintained, they reached the island in just a few minutes. Despite Merlin having slowed his heart, Arthur had moments left. With a last effort, Emrys carried him up the slope to the tower at the center of the island.

He didn't have to call on the Sidhe; they were there waiting for him. The wizard sank to his knees, gasping, to lower Arthur against the stone wall of the tall stone structure, telling the faerie-like creatures, "A fragment of an enchanted sword has made its way to his heart. Only your magic can save him."

"We will not save the life of our enemy." One of the Sidhe gestured and Arthur's eyes opened. The king gasped faintly; he was so weak that he couldn't move anything but his eyes, which flickered between the wizard and the whirling lights he saw. "Arthur Pendragon has long been a foe of the Sidhe."

"You have to save him!" Emrys' voice was whiplike.

"What reward would be so great that it would be worth Arthur's life to us?" The imps' spokesman demanded.

A final surge of strength brought Merlin to his feet. "I am Emrys, the last dragonlord, defender of Camelot and Albion, guardian of the once and future king! I will give you my life and all my magic in return for the king's life!"

There was a long silence. The light glowing around the Sidhe expanded, blinding both Arthur and Emrys. The voice of the sprite who had spoken previously echoed around them. "We do not want your life or your magic, Emrys."

"What do you want, then?" Merlin shouted, trying to see who he was talking to. When there was no answer, he called even more loudly, "I will pay any price! Anything you ask for is yours!"

In an instant, the blinding light was gone, along with the Sidhe.

Unable to breathe, Merlin dropped to his knees beside his companion. "Arthur! Arthur! Come on!"

The king's eyes had closed again; he was immobile. Emrys crumpled against Arthur, unable to stem the tide of grief that overwhelmed him. "Arthur, you can't do this to me!"

"Do what?" The wizard jerked back with a shocked gasp as Arthur's voice sounded weakly beside his ear. "You're the one trying to crush me."

Merlin scrambled backward, gaping at the king's face speechlessly.

Arthur regarded the old man crouched beside him with a puzzled expression. "Merlin?"

The wizard nodded, heaving a shuddering sob.

"You . . . you . . . you killed my father." Arthur murmured.

With a small strangling sound, Emrys began to cry freely. "Arthur! You aren't dead!"

"Merlin, you killed him." The king frowned. "My father."

This fact seemed so ridiculous and unimportant to the wizard – right now, the only thing in the universe that mattered was that Arthur was alive – but the fact that it seemed to matter so much to Arthur brought him back down to Earth. He shook his head to clear it, wiping the tears from his face. "What?"

"You're the sorcerer that killed my father, Merlin." Arthur looked utterly betrayed.

"It was Morgana." He sniffled. "I tried to heal Uther, but she had put a spell on him that reversed my magic and killed him."

Arthur stared at him, trying to accept this explanation. Merlin glanced up as it occurred to him that he should be puzzled. "Why did they heal you? They didn't want what I had to offer."

"Maybe they were impressed – Last dragonlord, defender of Camelot and Albion, guardian of the once and future king." Arthur shrugged, then added, "That last bit is rot, by the way. You're my servant, not my guardian."

"Well, I thought it sounded more impressive." The old man shrugged. "We'd better get out of here before this aging spell wears off and they see who I really am." At Arthur's questioning glance, he explained, "I have a habit of messing up their plans."

"What do you mean?" The king asked as, doing as Merlin had said, he began to slowly drag himself to his feet.

"Well, remember Princess Elena?" Merlin leaned against the stone wall, exhausted.

"Yes." Arthur regained his feet and stood shakily. "You convinced me not to marry her."

"That wasn't all I did." He smiled wryly. "A Sidhe had possessed her since she was a newborn – that's why she was so clumsy, because it was living inside her. Once you two were married it was going to take her over; a Sidhe on the throne of Camelot." He shrugged. "I, uh, expelled it from her." He glanced up; Arthur was staring down questioningly at him.

"Didn't you say we had to go, Merlin?" The king questioned freshly.

Merlin nodded, fatigued, and slowly came to his feet, supporting himself against the stone wall. Not noticing his servant's utter exhaustion, Arthur looked around warily. "Which way?"

The wizard pointed in the direction of the boat and followed as best he could as Arthur made his way unsteadily toward it. After a moment, the king glanced over his shoulder with a bemused expression. "What's wrong with you, Merlin?"

"Sire?"

"You're not normal. Do you feel old as well when you look like this?"

"Arthur, I haven't eaten in almost three days." Emrys panted. "I've been walking non-stop for just as long – carrying you part of the way, I might add."

The king frowned, angry – with himself, Merlin was pretty sure, not with his servant. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"What, for being injured? Not exactly your fault."

"For being so self-centered and inconsiderate of you."

"Thanks and sorry in the same day!" The ancient-looking Merlin grinned hugely. "I'm not sure Mordred didn't do something to you after all, Arthur."

"Well, don't get used to it." The king took a step back uphill, toward his companion, but had to stop, swaying. "I'm not sure I'm in much better shape than you, though."

"Actually, you're probably worse." Merlin caught up and leaned his shoulder supportively against Arthur's. "We just have to make it to the boat."

They managed to cover the rest of the distance to the vessel and haul themselves into it. Both slumped on the floor, heads hanging, energy spent. It was a moment before Merlin remembered that he had to send them on their way; he extended a hand over the water and muttered incoherently. They glided away, more slowly than they had traveled on the way to the island. For long minutes, they were silent; Merlin's aging spell faded.

Arthur looked up after a while and realized that tears were streaming noiselessly down Merlin's face, gathering at the corners of his mouth and dripping down his chin. The king raised an eyebrow. "What in the world are you going on about, Merlin?"

It was some time before the young wizard could form a reply. "I did it, Arthur. You're not dead."

"Really?" His friend's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed."

"Arthur, you don't understand." Merlin lifted his head, scrubbing at his eyes with his neckerchief. "Your destiny. It's changed. We changed your destiny – you and me and Mordred." His eyes widened with a sudden realization. "And Morgana! If she hadn't gone off raving at you like that, she wouldn't have turned Mordred against her again."

"Mordred." Arthur frowned. "I'd forgotten." His expression fell. "She stabbed him, Merlin! Is he dead?"

"No, he's alright." His servant assured him. "She didn't aim the dagger before she stabbed him; it wasn't a fatal blow. I sent Leon to find him and bring him to Gaius before we left."

A new question posed itself urgently at the forefront of Arthur's mind. "Merlin . . . why did you leave before the battle?"

Gravity settled over Merlin's face. "I didn't want to, Arthur; there was never a time before that I wanted to stay with you so badly. But Morgana had taken my magic. I had to go and get it back in time to save you."

"Hm." To Merlin's surprise, this answer seemed to satisfy the king. "I'm sorry for calling you a coward."

"It's not the worst thing you've called me." The wizard reassured him with a grin.

Both lurched as the boat bumped unexpectedly against the bank. Groaning, Merlin leaned back. "Let's get something to eat."

* * *

I'm not happy with this part, how everything worked. Obviously I wanted Arthur to live but I feel like the way I went about doing it was cliche. What do you think? Please review. :)


	7. Chapter 7

"That was you?" Arthur laughed disbelievingly. "Merlin, you were a woman?"

"I was thinking you could say something more along the lines of _thank you oh so much, Merlin, for saving Gwen from Morgana_." Merlin imitated Arthur's disciplined comportment and overbearing expression as he spoke.

"Merlin, I don't look like that." Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Yes you do." The servant grinned.

Arthur scowled. "Not always."

"No, you're right." Merlin agreed. "Sometimes you're asleep."

"Sometimes I'm – what? That doesn't make any sense." The king stopped for a moment to lean against a tree.

Merlin turned to check on him. "You alright?"

"Fine." Arthur tried to dismiss his concern.

"You're not as strong as you normally are, Arthur." The wizard told him. "We're going to have to go slowly and rest a lot."

"We need to get back to Camelot." Arthur insisted. "There's just been a battle – they need me. And Guinevere will be worried."

"They'll just have to wait." Merlin retorted. "We have to take our time."

The king clearly wasn't satisfied with this answer, but he didn't protest, complaining instead, "Ahhg. I'm so thirsty, Merlin. I haven't had a drink since we left the lake." As if his servant wouldn't understand, he added crossly, "Almost twenty-four hours, Merlin! I haven't had anything to drink for nearly a day!"

"Neither have I, sire." Merlin commented meekly.

"Well, why can't you just, I don't know, magic some up, or something?" Arthur demanded. When Merlin's face registered uncertainty and surprise, the king shrugged. "You use it all the time, don't you? I can't exactly stop you."

Merlin glanced around. "What should I put it in?"

Arthur tipped his head back, opening his mouth. Merlin grimaced. "Really?" Arthur nodded, head still leaning back. "Okay . . ." He cupped his fist over the king's face; his eyes flashed and a trickle of water tumbled out the bottom of his fist, splashing into Arthur's mouth.

"Okay, okay, that's enough." His companion jerked back after a moment, water spilling down his chin. "Watch out, Merlin!"

"Just doing what you told me to." Merlin clenched his fist shut and the flow of water was cut off. "We'll rest here for a few minutes."

Arthur nodded and leaned against the tree. "Just a few."

Merlin had hardly taken a breath when he stiffened. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" The blonde king glanced up.

"I thought I heard something."

Arthur frowned. "You always think you hear something, Merlin."

"No, shh!" The magician lifted a hand. Looking annoyed, Arthur glanced around.

"Someone's coming." Merlin spun on his heel. "Come on, into the woods."

"Merlin – "

"Come on!" Merlin pulled his friend into the trees and down into the cover of a thick, scrubby plant. "Stay quiet."

The sound of hoofbeats became easier to hear. Arthur had sunk wearily down on one knee; he remained in that position, motionless, as Merlin peered through the shrub's leafy branches at the trail.

Two horses came into view, a gray and a chestnut, cantering rapidly toward them. Almost immediately, Merlin distinguished the billowing red cloaks of the riders. He shoved Arthur. "It's the knights!"

"Well, are you going to let them pass?" The king demanded. Merlin glanced at him; Arthur had been irritable ever since they left the island. Hopefully that was because he was tired, not out of a continued animosity toward his servant.

With a shrug, the boy stepped out from their hiding place, waving his arms to attract the knights' attention. He recognized the closer of the two riders as Gwaine; the other, a few meters behind, was Percival.

"Merlin!" They reined in and stamped to a clomping, snorting halt. Gwaine leaned down from the saddle. "Where's the king?"

"I'm here." Arthur rose unsteadily from where he knelt behind the shrub.

"Arthur!" Percival swung down from his saddle, passing his reins to Merlin with hardly a glance at him. The tall knight strode to the king and clapped him on the shoulder. Arthur nearly tripped, shifting one foot out to catch himself. The knight steadied him, frowning. "You all right?"

"Better than I was." Arthur gripped his arm. "What are the pair of you doing here?"

"Lookin' for you." Gwaine contributed. "Actually, for Merlin."

"For me?" Merlin looked from one to the next.

"Gaius needs you." Percival explained.

"Why?"

"Dunno." Gwaine dismounted and circled his gray's rump to approach them. "It's something to do with Mordred."

"Mordred?" Arthur frowned.

"Morgana stabbed him." Merlin put in.

The king snorted. "Yes, Merlin, I was there. You said it wasn't a dangerous injury, though."

"I don't know any of the details." Gwaine shrugged. "The queen couldn't tell us much."

"All we know is that Gaius needs Merlin's help to save Mordred, and we have to be back as quick as we can." Percival told them.

"Well then." Arthur tilted his head. "Let's get moving."

"Right." Percival took the reins from Merlin and passed them to the king. "You can have my horse – you don't look in shape to walk."

"Thanks." Arthur hauled himself tiredly into the saddle. He and Gwaine reined the horses in a tight circle and started back the way the knights had come at a brisk walk, Percival striding easily alongside. Merlin tagged along behind, muttering to himself, "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine – not tired in the least. I'll walk for a while, no problem."

"What was that, Merlin?" Gwaine glanced back at the servant.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself, that's all."

"Oh." The knight swiveled back around.

Arthur craned his head around to regard Merlin with an indecipherable expression. The young wizard returned his gaze curiously; Arthur stared at him for several seconds, obviously thinking hard, then swung around to watch the trail ahead.

An hour or so later, Gwaine spoke out suddenly, "You look like you could use a break. You can have my horse for a while, and I'll walk."

Merlin opened his mouth in surprise, but before he could speak, Percival answered, "Thanks, Gwaine."

"No problem." The smaller knight grinned affably, swinging down from his gray and handing the reins over to Percival.

Merlin's jaw flapped indignantly, but none of the other seemed to notice. Another hour passed, then Percival glanced down at Gwaine. "Well, we don't want to tire you out, little man. Why don't you ride for a while now?"

"Sounds good." Gwaine agreed, and they changed places.

Thoroughly annoyed, Merlin shook his head, speaking aloud to himself, "Yeah, wouldn't want to tire you out or anything like that, Gwaine."

"Did I just hear you say I'm fat, Merlin?" The knight glanced back at him.

Merlin presented him with an amiable grin. "Maybe."

With a good-humored smirk, Gwaine countered, "That's rich, coming from a lazy do-nothing like yourself."

The accusation left Merlin sputtering, outraged. On the spur of the moment, he almost used magic to make the horse throw Gwaine (throw him onto Percival – that would be a nice touch), but he suppressed the impulse and just kept plodding along behind the rest, watching their horses' hooves fling up mud that spattered onto his boots and trousers.

It was a while before Merlin noticed that Arthur's posture had sagged until he was slouching listlessly in the saddle, obviously spent. The young wizard caught up to Gwaine's gray. "We need to stop for a while – Arthur needs a break."

"Well, the sun's going to be down in a bit, anyway." The knight observed. "We'll just make camp for the night."

"Don't we have to get back to help Mordred?" Merlin questioned hesitantly.

"We're less than a day's journey from Camelot now – we'll make it in time." Percival assured him.

They found a good place to stop, a dell surrounded on all sides by tall, stark trees, giving them a clear line of sight in every direction to the top of the ridge enclosing the little glade. Merlin gathered wood and built a fire while the knights sat about sharpening their swords and Arthur leaned wearily against the bole of a craggy hawthorn tree.

Once the fire was healthy enough to stay alive unattended, Merlin began going through the packs attached to the two horses. He found Gwaine's canteen and downed its remaining contents eagerly; he'd only had one chance to drink anything in the past three days. In fact, he reflected, it was a wonder that he was still on his feet; by rights it seemed that he should be totally incapacitated with weakness by now.

"I will be, if they don't ease off on me a bit." He confided to the horse. "But you know knights; that's not going to happen!"

"Merlin!" Percival called. "Bring me my canteen, would you? I'm parched!"

After a moment digging amid the chestnut's bags, Merlin discovered that Arthur had finished off the contents of the canteen in question on the way here. "Uh, Percival, your water's all out."

"He can have some of mine." Gwaine offered.

Merlin glanced down at Gwaine's canteen, which he had just drained. "Uh . . . yours is empty, too."

"Well then, what are you still here for?" The knight prompted cheerfully. "Go find us more water, Merlin!"

Fuming internally at the injustice of this, the servant smiled brightly. "Right, of course. I'll be right back."

"Hurry up, too." Percival put in. "If I die of dehydration before you get back I'll haunt you forever."

Merlin wandered off with the two canteens, leaving the dell and moving a few minutes' walk off into the woods. Having found no sign of water, he gave in to exhaustion and impatience and sat down against a tangle of roots to fill the canteens by means of magic.

Once they were full, Merlin decided to take his time before returning to the others. He was absolutely worn out, but this would be the only chance he got for a break until they were all asleep, assuming they didn't make him stand guard all night – which, knowing his friends, might just happen.

He intended to rest for no more than fifteen minutes, then make his way back to the campsite. But he'd had a grand total of forty minutes' sleep since waking up in the Crystal Cave with his magic restored; after going non-stop for days straight, he was absolutely bushed. Within moments of sitting down to fill the two canteens, he had dropped off.

* * *

I'm curious; if you had to guess, what would you predict is going to happen in the rest of this episode?


	8. Chapter 8

"Where d'you suppose Merlin's got to?" Gwaine glanced up at the other two. "He's been gone for at least half an hour."

"I was thinking the same thing." Percival nodded. "Maybe we should go find him."

"No." Arthur raised his head. The two knights' faces registered surprise; the king had hardly spoken all day. "He'll probably be back soon. Merlin can take care of himself. Most likely there wasn't any water nearby and the idiot is wandering around miles from here still looking for somewhere to fill the canteens."

"Probably." Gwaine agreed with a grin. "He _would_ do that."

Arthur didn't reply. He was having doubts as to whether his servant would actually return. Maybe Merlin had decided to take a break, which Arthur had to admit would be a well-deserved one; the boy had got next to no rest since the battle, and that had been almost four days ago. But nagging on the fringe of Arthur's mind was the thought that, now that the king knew his secret, Merlin might have decided his safest course of action was to disappear. Arthur wasn't sure what he thought about that; did he want Merlin gone? It would certainly make his life easier, not having to decide what to do with his servant-turned-magician . . .

This train of thoughts was cut off as, absolutely without warning, a dozen-odd Saxons broke cover all around the top of the ridge and thundered down from every side of the dell. The three warriors were all on their feet, backs to the fire, by the time the ambushers reached them; the knights had their swords ready and Arthur had instinctively swept up the best weapon at hand, a long brand of flaming wood from the fire.

"Only five each!" Gwaine shouted as the Saxons closed. His blade clashed as he fended off the first onslaught. "Doesn't seem fair!"

"Tell me about it!" Percival barked, sweeping an attacker's legs from under him and shoving him back into his comrades crowding behind him.

A sword snapped off the blazing end of Arthur's makeshift weapon; as it fell, he kicked it up at the Saxon who'd cut it off, swinging the solid pole he was left with into another man's throat.

Too many weapons were coming at him at once, though; a spearpoint scored along the inside of his knee. As he involuntarily shouted in pain, distracted for just an instant, a sword twisted the wood from his grasp and stabbed at his stomach. Arthur knocked it aside, getting the back of his hand torn open as he did so, and swung a fist at its wielder.

The blow hit home, but there were too many Saxons coming at him at once and he was still weak. Someone caught hold of his arm, twisting it behind him, wrenched him forward and spun around. A dagger pressed against his collarbone.

Arthur struggled ineffectually as the aggressor shouted to get the knights' attention. Percival and Gwaine froze, and in moments, both were on their knees, held there by a husky Saxon at each shoulder.

The attackers' leader was completely bald, with a scar hooking his upper lip into a constant snarl. He stalked around the fire toward Arthur, ignoring the two knights. "Arthur Pendragon!" He swept a sarcastic bow. "We're deeply honored by your presence."

As the dagger disappeared from his throat, the king tried to twist free of the grip of the man holding him, but to no avail. "Who are you?"

"Nobody important." The man scowled. "My name's Albereth; a follower of your sister Morgana."

"Morgana is dead." Arthur growled.

"I know!" The studs on Albereth's gauntlet laid open the king's cheek as he bashed him forcefully with the back of his hand. The knights simultaneously tried to lunge to their feet, but Percival found himself staring down a saber and Gwaine was immediately subdued by the four Saxons around him.

Arthur rolled his head back into place, eyes hooded. "What do you want?"

"The same thing the rest of your sister's army wanted." Albereth snarled. "To see you burn!"

"Let my men go." The king licked blood off his lip.

"Don't tell me what to do!" As their leader shouted, the Saxons surrounding the king went for him all at once. Amid the storm of blows that rained on him, Arthur somehow ended up on his knees. When Albereth finally decided his captive had had enough, he stopped his men with a sharp gesture.

Gwaine and Percival's struggling had redoubled, and as a result they had both been forced onto their stomachs and pinned there while their hands were lashed securely behind their backs. Arthur was unconscious thanks to the beating he'd received – a limp, battered heap on the ground.

Albereth crouched in front of Gwaine as the Saxons hauled him back up to his knees. The enemies' leader pushed the edge of his knife under the knight's chin, forcing his head back. "Where are the others?"

"What others?" Gwaine spat.

The Saxon's scar stretched as he smirked. "The rest of your party. I know you have at least one servant. Where are they?"

Gwaine smirked back. "You know that, do you? Is that what you know?"

"Don't mess with me, boy." Albereth pushed his blade harder against the knight's windpipe.

Gwaine was belligerently silent. Percival was following a rational line of thinking, though. The Saxon had no way of knowing there was anyone else with them. He was bluffing, acting as if he knew for a fact that there were more than three of them, but he couldn't know; their tracks had been too indefinite, and if the Saxons had been watching them since Merlin left, they would have just taken him then instead of pointlessly wasting time.

Albereth caught Gwaine by the neck of his mail tunic and shoved him backward against the Saxon behind him. Gwaine gagged as Albereth's thumb dug into his windpipe beneath the knife blade. "Who was with you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" The knight gasped.

Percival tried to wrench free of the men holding him. "It was just a servant!"

Albereth, still gripping the neck of Gwaine's tunic, turned to glare at the huge knight. "Where is he?"

"He went to get us water."

"Percival!" Gwaine raged.

Albereth leaned closer, repeating the question slowly. "Where is he?"

"Don't tell him!" Gwaine barked.

Percival seemed to hesitate. The Saxon leader hauled the smaller knight forward by the collar, pressing the knife against his windpipe again and gritting, "Where is he?"

"He went north!" Percival exclaimed, struggling. "North!"

Gwaine trailed off in the middle of an outraged protest. Merlin had actually gone southeast. Albereth nodded to two of his men; they sprinted away in the opposite direction to that which Merlin had really taken. The leader shoved Gwaine aside; unbalanced, with his hands bound behind him, the knight sprawled awkwardly on the ground.

A blast of unseen force hurled everyone in the dell several meters backward. Gwaine landed shoulder-first, unable to break his fall with his hands. Percival crashed down on his back with a strangled yell. Albereth hurtled into a tree and slid to the ground, out cold or maybe dead. Arthur's motion was arrested in mid-air; he dropped gently to the ground as if caught and lowered by an invisible person.

Gwaine tried to use his elbows to get up, gaping at the old man who had appeared through the trees. He wore a loose, faded red tunic, its sleeves shoved up to his elbows, and non-descript trousers. From the ends of the trouser legs, which were too long for their wearer, could be seen the toes of boots which, at closer proximity, would have looked suspiciously like Merlin's.

The old man shambled around the fire and crouched beside Arthur, grimacing as he looked him over. Gwaine recognized him as the old sorcerer who had, among other crimes, been responsible for Uther Pendragon's death. He managed to struggle into a sitting position, panting, "Stay away from him!"

Emrys ignored the winded knight, placing a hand against Arthur's head and mumbling incoherently. Gwaine glanced around desperately; Percival had been stunned by his hard landing, as had most of the Saxons, though a couple of them were already gathering their feet under them. Gwaine dragged himself toward the nearest man, who had a sword thrust through his belt, and turned his back to him to try to saw through his bonds.

One of the Saxons made a sudden rush at the magician. Without so much as glancing up, Merlin held his free hand out toward the man; he lifted off the ground and was flung backward by the same intangible force that the wizard had used before.

That was not the way to approach, Gwaine realized as his hands came free. He couldn't charge the old man; he'd have to move toward him slowly. Talk his way there.

He pulled the sword from the Saxon's belt and rose into a wary standing crouch. "What are you doing to him?"

The wizard still ignored him. He took a few cautious paces forward. "Who are you?" He still received no response, so he kept easing his way closer. "You'd better clear out while you have the chance; we're not the only ones in our party."

This got a response from the old man. He sat back on his heels, commenting tetchily, "No, you've also got that servant boy. Unfortunately for you, he won't be around any time soon."

Gwaine's scowl deepened angrily. "What did you do to him?"

"Me?" Emrys sneered. "I didn't do anything! It's your own fault he won't be back soon."

"What are you talking about?" The knight was still picking his way forward.

"The boy hasn't eaten or slept in four days." The wizard informed him in his grouchy manner. "You big fresh strong chivalrous types have been making him run behind your horses all day while you rested your lazy backsides." He snorted. "The boy's sound asleep. Can't say I blame him."

Gwaine frowned uncertainly, moving surreptitiously closer. "How do you know that?"

"Stay away." Emrys warned gruffly, raising a hand. Gwaine found himself unable to move any further, as though an invisible wall stood in his way. He tried to force his way through the unseen barrier, grunting in frustration.

Merlin took care of the last of Arthur's more severe injuries and stood up stiffly. Gwaine watched him warily, still trying to break through the barrier. "What did you do to him?"

"You would benefit from learning to be less suspicious." Emrys shook a finger testily at the much younger man, then spun on his heel and shambled away in the direction he'd come from.

As soon as the wizard had disappeared over the ridge of the dell, the force holding Gwaine back dissolved. He rushed to Arthur's side and lifted the king's head apprehensively.

After a moment, Arthur's eyes fluttered open. He frowned, puzzled. "Gwaine?"

The knight allowed himself a grin of relief.

"What happened?" The king sat up, glaring around as if looking for someone to blame.

"The Saxons knocked you out." Gwaine explained.

"You beat them? Where's Percival?"

"It wasn't me – it was that old magician who killed your father."

"M – " Arthur began, then paused.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was going to say, where's Merlin?" The king told him dismissively.

"Off asleep in the woods somewhere." Gwaine snorted.

Arthur regarded his knight's face for a moment, then returned to surveying the scene around them. "Of course he is. What about Percival?"

Gwaine glanced up and realized that four of the Saxons were on their feet, a couple of them moving toward him. He rose into a ready stance, the sword he'd taken in his hand. The first man to attack him went down immediately; the next two gave him a bit of a challenge, but he put paid to them quickly, as well. The fourth prudently chose to run for the ridge, staggering dizzily as he went.

The knight stopped beside Percival, who had managed to sit up, and cut the ropes binding his hands. The two of them watched anxiously as Arthur got up; he seemed to be doing pretty well, considering that he'd just been beaten unconscious.

Gwaine tilted his head. "I thought that sorcerer would turn you into a toad or something."

"Gwaine, _that sorcerer_ came to our rescue at Camlann." Arthur told him tartly. "If it weren't for _that sorcerer_, we'd all be dead."

"That was him?" Both knights' eyebrows shot up disbelievingly.

The king's response was precluded by the sudden appearance of Merlin. Once he was sure Gwaine couldn't see him anymore, the wizard had changed back to his younger self and put on his jacket, neckerchief and belt, which he had hidden in a bush a safe distance from the camp before rescuing the others. He almost forgot to tuck his trousers back into his boots and pick up the two canteens before he circled around to approach the camp from the direction he'd originally left it from.

"Merlin!" Percival was the first to notice him. "Where _have_ you been?"

"Napping off in the woods." Gwaine supplied. "Too bad – you missed a good fight."

"You beat all these Saxons?" Merlin glanced at the dead and unconscious bodies lying all around.

"Well . . ." Gwaine shifted. "I wouldn't say . . ."

"It was the old sorcerer who saved us in the battle of Camlann." Arthur interrupted, adding with a significant look, "He saved our lives."

"As usual." Merlin grinned.

"What do you mean, as usual?" Gwaine frowned.

He shrugged. "Oh . . . I meant I missed the interesting part, as usual."

* * *

I may decide to take this part out. It doesn't serve any purpose to the story except for Merlin to get back at Gwaine for not letting him ride earlier. What do you think? As always, please review, even if you don't have much to say. :)


	9. Chapter 9

It was about noon the next day when they rode into Camelot. To the others' surprise, Gwaine had offered Merlin his horse when they started out that morning; the two knights had walked the rest of the way. Gwen met them in the courtyard; handing the reins over to Gwaine so the knights could stable their horses, Merlin jogged up the stairs while the king and queen shared the usual emotional reunion.

It didn't take long to find Gaius; the dining hall had been transformed into a temporary infirmary, as usually happened when there were many casualties. The old physician was stooped over one of his patients, but left whatever he was doing as soon as he noticed his apprentice. "Merlin!"

"Told you I'd be back." The boy, expecting an embrace, was surprised when Gaius spun him around and hauled him off at a brisk trot in the direction of their chambers.

"What happened, Merlin?" Gaius questioned as they went.

"I saved him." A huge grin lit the young wizard's face. "Arthur's fine."

"Merlin!" The healer paused for a moment, turning to face his ward, but didn't know how to put his pride, relief, respect and joy into words. Treating the boy to a rare smile, he continued along the hall.

"So what's going on?" Merlin had to walk rapidly to keep up. "The knights said you needed my help."

"You're not going to like this, Merlin, but you're the only one who can save Mordred."

Shooting a sidelong glance at the boy to see how he reacted, Gaius was surprised that Merlin didn't state immediately that he'd do no such thing. Instead, he nodded. "What's wrong with him?"

Raising an eyebrow, the physician explained, "The dagger Morgana stabbed him with released malignant magic into his system. He'll be dead within a day if you don't save him."

"Right, what do I do?"

The old man gave Merlin another curious look. "I didn't think you'd agree."

"Agree to what?"

"To save him."

"Why not?" The boy seemed genuinely confused.

"You wouldn't before."

"But the time when he was supposed to kill Arthur has passed, and he didn't." Merlin was more than willing to explain. "I think he's really on our side now, Gaius. He changed his destiny."

"No, Merlin." The physician shook his head. "Mordred didn't change anything. You did."

"Mordred helped." Merlin grinned lopsidedly. "If he hadn't changed his mind at Camlann, Arthur would be dead."

"Or you'd have saved him anyway."

Further debate was precluded as they reached the door of Gaius' room. Arthur and Gwen were standing by Mordred's cot, holding hands as usual as they watched the young knight's slack face.

"The pair of you are going to have to leave." Gaius told them immediately. "We need peace and quiet to manage this, and both of you have a lot to do. We'll let you know if his condition changes." Arthur tried to protest, but the old healer ushered him and his wife out unceremoniously and bolted the door behind them.

Merlin knelt beside the cot. "What do I do?"

"_I_ have no idea." Gaius frowned. "You'll have to figure it out yourself."

"Great." The wizard leaned his elbows on the edge of the bed, staring at Mordred's pale countenance. "He doesn't look too good."

"That's because he's on the verge of death, Merlin." His mentor's tone was one of weary patience. "He could die any time in the next few hours."

"I'd better come up with something soon, then." He sat back on his heels, still leaning his elbows on the cot, and lapsed into a contemplative silence. Gaius went about his business, gathering fresh supplies to take with him when he went back to the infirmary downstairs.

After a few minutes, Merlin said suddenly, "Why shouldn't a basic healing spell work? Something like what I did when Uther was dying." He frowned. "Of course, that did kill him . . ."

"The spell wasn't to blame for that, though." Gaius pointed out. "I suppose you could try it."

Merlin nodded. "What did I use . . . four drops of hogswart, right? And then there was that sage branch – what was the point of that again?"

"That's what the book said you should do." Gaius shrugged. "I can get it out again if you don't remember."

"Probably a good idea," His ward agreed. "I don't want to do it wrong."

They had to hunt around on the shelves for a minute before they found the manuscript in question, and longer to find the right page. Finally, Merlin reviewed the words of the spell while Gaius gathered the necessary materials.

The wizard carefully splashed four drops of hogswart into Mordred's slightly open mouth, then held the sage branch a few inches above the boy's face and began to chant, moving it back and forth as it began to smoke. His voice rose harshly toward the end of the chain of strange words; his eyes glowed and, without warning, Mordred lurched upright, eyes wide open.

Startled, Merlin let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Mordred?"

The young knight frowned at his surroundings, obviously confused. After a tense silence, he asked suddenly, "Where am I?"

"Back at Camelot." Merlin clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Morgana stabbed you."

"I remember that." The boy nodded, still frowning.

"The blade was enchanted." Merlin explained. "The magic in it has been killing you."

Mordred's eyes stopped searching the room to fasten on Merlin's face. "Did you save Arthur?"

"Yes. He's fine." The wizard's smile expanded. "And very grateful to you, by the way."

"To me?"

"Yes." Merlin thumped the youngster's arm gently. "You killed Morgana, Mordred. You saved Arthur."

"_You_ saved Arthur." Mordred shook his head.

"Couldn't have done it without you." Merlin sat back, heaving a sigh.

Gaius joined the two, groaning as he stooped to sit down. "Merlin, I'm going to need your help taking care of the injured. There are a lot of them."

His apprentice nodded. He wanted to find Arthur and sound him out, because he still wasn't sure how the king felt about his magic, but logic told him Arthur would be too busy with matters of state, what with the battle and the defeat of Morgana and all the casualties and whatnot. He'd talk to him tomorrow morning.

"We'd better get going, then." Merlin jerked to his feet. "Ooh. I'm sort of stiff myself."

"Merlin." His mentor stopped him unexpectedly. "Gwen knows you have magic."

He hesitated uncertainly. "What did she say?"

"She's quite willing to accept it, actually. And very thankful for all you've done for Arthur."

"I told him, you know." The young wizard stated impulsively. "He knows now." The other two met this revelation with questioning looks, so he elaborated, "At first he was upset. Now I'm not sure what he thinks."

They went their separate ways; at the two healers' insistence, Mordred stayed where he was to rest for a bit, while Merlin headed for the infirmary to get to work. Gaius went to inform the king and queen that the young knight was on the road to recovery.

Arthur met him halfway to the throne room. "Gaius? How is Mordred?"

"He's doing much better now; the injury should heal quite soon." The physician told him.

Glancing around to be sure they were alone, the king stated in a low voice, "Merlin is a sorcerer."

When Gaius answered this with a blank expression, Arthur shifted back, scowling. "You knew."

"Yes, sire." The old man nodded.

"Gaius, I don't know how to . . . I don't even . . ." Lost for words, Arthur gave a helpless shrug.

"He's not just a sorcerer, sire." Gaius leaned closer to emphasize his statement. "There are some who say he is the greatest sorcerer that has ever lived."

Arthur raised an incredulous eyebrow. "_Merlin_."

"Yes, sire." The physician nodded, then, after a pause he added, "He is many things, Arthur, but above all, Merlin is loyal to you."

"I believe that." The king nodded. "But I can't . . . magic . . ." Once more unable to phrase his thoughts, he shrugged and strode away abruptly, leaving Gaius to interpret his words as he wished.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? How am I doing with keeping everyone in character? That's what I think I'm having most trouble with, but I think I managed it okay. Getting near the end now... please review! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur woke to blinding sunlight and immediately rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. Merlin's insistent voice penetrated the pillow, though; "Come on, sire, rise and shine!"

About to make some sardonic remark, the king suddenly remembered the events of the past few days. He sat up, staring at his servant. Merlin was busy tying the drapes back; he glanced over his shoulder, grinning. "Up and at 'em!"

Refusing to show that he was somewhat disheartened by Arthur's lack of reaction, Merlin loped across the room to the table. "Your breakfast is ready, but you have a lot to do so I'm thinking I might just eat it instead . . ."

This still excited no rejoinder from Arthur; the king threw aside the blankets and climbed out of bed silently, watching Merlin with an expression that his servant couldn't interpret.

As he helped his friend dress, Merlin didn't have much to say; he tried once to start one of the insulting back-and-forths that the two usually exchanged, but Arthur's retort was half-hearted and Merlin wisely didn't push it.

Arthur settled at the table as he normally did and Merlin began to serve him breakfast, but the king finally came out of his withdrawn mood to say vehemently, "Merlin, how can you just go about like nothing's changed?"

"Nothing has, sire." The wizard shifted.

"Not for you, I suppose." Arthur scowled. "But to me this is – this is – this is earth-shattering, Merlin!" The king struggled to find the words he was looking for. "I can't just take this in stride and move on, Merlin."

His servant greeted the last statement silently, waiting for Arthur to carry on – which he did. "Merlin, after everything they've suffered at Morgana's hands, the people won't, _can't_, just accept your magic, just like that!" He shook his head. "I'm not sure _I_ can, for that matter."

Merlin stared at his feet dejectedly. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, Merlin. I don't know." Arthur rose from his seat and paced to the window to look out restlessly at the goings-on in the courtyard. "Really, I have no idea what to do."

A long, crushing silence inundated the room until Merlin suddenly stated, "I'll leave if you want me to."

Arthur took a moment in forming his response. "Merlin . . . I don't _want_ you to, truly I don't . . . but I think maybe that would be best."

Merlin blinked several times in rapid succession, his eyes still cast down. Arthur watched him mutely. Realizing that the king was waiting on a response, the wizard glanced up; he gaze flickered to Arthur's face briefly. "Okay."

"Merlin." The king sounded almost as miserable as his servant felt. "Look, I don't want this to be, you know, permanent."

"What do you mean?" Merlin glanced up.

"I don't know." Arthur crossed the room, coming toward him again, and sat despondently on the edge of the table. "I just need to think everything through for a while, Merlin. And I can't . . . I can't, I don't know, uphold all the laws against magic while harboring a sorcerer at the same time."

"Change the laws." Merlin muttered.

"But Merlin, I'm not convinced I should!" Frustrated, the king slammed his hand down on the table. "I believe you're a good person, Merlin, I do, but I just can't accept that magic is good! Not yet, I can't."

" 'Course not." Though he knew Arthur's beliefs were wrong, Merlin understood where his friend was coming from. Having been raised his entire life believing that magic was evil, and having seen the suffering inflicted by many who wielded it, changing wasn't easy for Arthur. The young wizard shrugged. "I'll leave."

The king lifted his eyes and they stared at each other for a poignant moment. Then Arthur gave a single nod of his head. Feeling tears coming on, Merlin left the room and, once out of sight, made a beeline for his own chambers. Bursting through Gaius' door a moment later, he bolted past a bewildered Mordred and took the stairs to his room three at a time, slamming the door behind him so hard that its hinges were nearly torn loose.

A few minutes later, Mordred entered the upstairs room with a soft knock to find Merlin trying stuffing a couple of identical, long-sleeved blue tunics into his pack. The young knight closed the door and leaned against it, stating softly, "Arthur told you to leave."

"I offered to." Merlin didn't look up.

Mordred nodded. There was a long silence as Merlin aggravatedly dumped everything in the satchel out onto his bed and started packing it all back in again. The wizard was obviously trying to vent his frustration on his clothes, but it wasn't helping much.

"Are you angry at him?" Mordred questioned.

"At Arthur?" Merlin glanced up for a second. "Of course not. I'm just, I don't know . . ."

"He'll come around." The younger of the two promised.

Merlin sat down on his bed and leaned back against the wall. "I know. I'm just afraid it'll take him years."

There was a pause, then Mordred questioned, "Do you trust me now?"

The magician gave a small smile. "Yes."

"I never understood why you didn't trust me before." The knight commented. "I thought it was because I had magic, but I didn't know why you'd mistrust one of your own."

"It was foretold to me, years ago, that you would kill Arthur." Merlin explained.

Mordred frowned slightly. "That could still come to pass."

"You were destined to kill him in the battle of Camlann." The wizard rubbed his face with his hands. "Arthur was going to die, but you changed both your destinies."

"I didn't do anything, though. I still stabbed Arthur. It was you that changed his destiny – you saved him."

"Maybe." Merlin shrugged tiredly. "I don't believe I could have saved him, though, if you hadn't saved him first."

"I guess we'll never know." Mordred folded his arms, changing the subject. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know." Merlin shrugged glumly. "I'm going to find Aithusa. After Kilgharrah, he's the last dragon alive. He needs me."

"Arthur may try to hunt him down, too." Mordred commented.

"Maybe." Merlin eyed the boy inquiringly. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I'd like to stay here, if Arthur will have me." He glanced at the floor.

"He will." The older boy assured him. "He'll probably even make you a knight again." He paused. "What about your magic?"

"What about it?" Mordred queried.

Merlin tipped his head. "Well, I mean . . . I don't know."

"I'd like to become a better warrior – I don't want to need magic." The Druid stared vaguely at the wall. "I admire you, Merlin, but I'd rather rely on my skill with a sword than magic."

The wizard nodded understandingly, shoving a red neckerchief into his satchel. Mordred glanced down at it, amused. "Do you ever wear anything different?"

"Yes!" Merlin replied defensively. "I wear . . ." He paused as it occurred to him for the first time that all of his outfits consisted of a red or blue long-sleeved tunic and a red or blue neckerchief. He finished the sentence with, " . . . different things."

Mordred grinned. "Right."

His depression somewhat dispelled, Merlin finished packing while the young knight looked on. Swinging the satchel over his shoulder, he glanced around the room. "There's a lot here."

"Really?" Mordred looked around dubiously.

"I keep things under the bed," Merlin grinned in spite of himself. "I have a book of magic and a Sidhe staff, and things like that. I don't need them, though – I'll leave them with Gaius."

Mordred nodded mutely. Merlin turned toward him, offering his hand. "Look after Arthur for me."

"He doesn't need it." The boy shook his hand firmly.

"He does, though." The wizard grimaced dryly. "He's going to be relying on you and the other knights more than ever."

"Now that you won't be around to help him." Mordred put in.

Merlin shrugged. "Good luck putting up with the clotpole."

"The what?" The knight blinked.

"Don't call him that if you don't like mucking out stables." The older boy warned.

"I won't, don't worry." Mordred stood aside to let Merlin pass, then followed him down the stairs.

"You'd better stay here and rest some more." The young wizard advised.

Mordred nodded. They stared at each other for a moment, then Merlin turned his back. "Goodbye."

He closed the door behind him and started down the hall, trying to ignore his gloom. He had to see Gaius before he left.

The physician was still at work in the infirmary. Seeing the pack Merlin carried, he stopped what he was doing. "Are you going somewhere, Merlin."

"I'm leaving." His ward kicked halfheartedly at the tile. "Arthur thinks it's the best thing to do."

Gaius' face fell. "Where will you go?"

"Dunno." Merlin shrugged. "Here and there. Maybe back to Ealdor."

"I'm sure a man of your skills will find something significant to do." The elderly man remarked, then added meaningfully, "And I don't mean just your skills with magic."

"You taught me everything I know." Merlin succeeded in summoning a smile to his face. "I'll miss you, Gaius."

"And I you." The healer responded gravely. He hugged his apprentice gently, then drew back. "I'm sure Arthur will change his mind."

"Eventually." Merlin shrugged. "If someone doesn't kill him before he can, without me around to watch his stupid backside."

"Now that Morgana's gone, it seems to me his chances of surviving long without you are significantly greater." At the pained look this extracted from the boy, Gaius amended, "Not that he doesn't still need you."

"We'll see." Merlin backed away. "Goodbye, Gaius."

"I'm proud of you, Merlin." His mentor told him unexpectedly.

Giving a last, small grin, the wizard turned and loped away, feeling himself choking up. On his way down the stairs into the courtyard, he passed Gwaine; the knight caught him by the arm, stopping him. "Where are you off to, Merlin?" When the boy didn't reply immediately, looking down at his boots instead, the knight added conspiratorially, "If it's anywhere interesting, maybe I'll come along. All we've been doing since we got back is paperwork – I'm ready to explode."

"I don't think you can come this time, Gwaine." Merlin broke away and started down the steps, wishing his voice wasn't threatening to betray him.

"Why? Where are you going?" The knight stared after his friend, puzzled, as Merlin crossed the courtyard.

From his window, unseen, Arthur Pendragon broodingly watched the lonesome figure of his closest friend disappearing through the gateway.

A few minutes later, almost out of the city, Merlin heard the clatter of hooves behind him and moved to the side of the road, out of the way of whoever was cantering up from behind. The horse danced to a stop behind him, though, and a familiar voice stopped him. "Merlin!"

"Gwen?" He turned. "What are you doing here?"

"Gwaine told me you were leaving. Where are you going?" She swept down off her steed and approached him anxiously.

"I don't know. Arthur told me I need to leave, though."

"What?" Gwen was dismayed. "Why?"

He watched her countenance. "Gaius told you about me?"

"Yes." She took a step closer. "Merlin, that doesn't change anything!"

"Arthur doesn't see it that way." He scuffed one boot on the cobblestones.

"You told him?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "I'm glad I did, but . . ."

"Let me talk to him. I'm sure he'll change his mind." She pressed.

"It's not that." Merlin shook his head. "He'd let me stay if I wanted to, but he just needs to figure this out for himself."

She stared into his face, unsure what to say.

The wizard took her hand. "Just do one thing for me, Gwen."

"Anything." She promised.

"When Arthur is ready to accept me again, tell him to come find me."

"When will that be?"

"Months, years, who knows?" He sighed. "I'll wait, though."

She nodded. "I'll tell him."

He let her hand go and stepped back as if to continue on his way.

"Merlin." She stopped him. When he met her eyes, she smiled. "Thank you for everything you've done, Merlin. I won't forget."

"Forget me?" A lopsided grin cracked his dejected face. "I'd like to see you try."

And with that, Emrys, the last dragonlord, defender of Camelot and Albion, guardian of the once and future king, vanquisher of the last high priestess, the greatest sorcerer that ever lived, went on his lonely way.

* * *

**MERLIN  
**will return

* * *

Okay, so a few things...

First of all, I know, this ending is really sad. BUT it's not the permanent end... I'm starting a season 6. I'll have at least the first part of episode 1 posted by sometime tomorrow (Tuesday). I'll post a link to it on here so the people following this story will know when I've got it up.

Also, one of my reviewers (thanks guys! :D) commented that the part where Arthur says "so you're not an idiot; that was another lie" doesn't seem right (that's in chapter 5 or 6, I think). I sort of agree with that, actually; when I saw the episode I thought that was a bit off, since Arthur doesn't really think Merlin's an idiot, he just likes to say that. I almost didn't put it in, but I sort of threw it in at the last moment. Should I take that out? I'd replace it with something that fits in better.

And there was something else...but I forgot what it was. :) Please review!

EDIT: As of now, my season 6 episode 1 is part way done. Go to the next page for the link. :)


	11. Author's Note (Season 6)

_Hey guys! If you read this far, thanks so much for sticking with me. :D If you didn't, and you just skipped to the end because you could…. DIE. Don't worry, I'm kidding (seriously though…)._

_Anyway, the point is, I started the first episode of my season 6. Please make my day and go check it out. I have yet to figure out how to put a link in here, so you'll just have to go to my profile and click it. Super easy, don't worry, my profile is really short._

_I promise it's worth a read and it won't take long (maybe) ;D_


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